*
The girl is in no hurry,
alien to a horizon inside out
to the disturbances within it,
maybe for her the future is
another amniotic fluid,
time be hybrid, and the table
insossa, almost a torment, but
throwing in the towel seems a bit distant
to the unknown mind of the girl
sitting in a common chair
thinking not thinking.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Some never recover and are let down, even by loved ones
Thank you very much, dear friend David Moore for your visit to my site here at PoemHunter, and for the kindness of the comment. Darlan M Cunha (Brazil)